Page 62 of Ezra
“Don’t apologize,” I reply gently. “I appreciate what you tried to do.”
“I’m hopeful I can get him to retract some of the things he’s advocated for,” Katrina laments. “I don’t know if I’ll have any effect on Humanity First to encourage people to try to find middle ground, where both displaced workers and pro-bionics can speak without shouting at each other, and work together.”
“If anyone can, it’s you. I have to ask, though...” I keep my expression as neutral as possible. “Kitty?”
She rolls her eyes and throws a decorative lounge pillow at me, which bounces harmlessly off my chest. Her steps are lighter as she heads to the kitchen, and I can’t help but smile when her back is turned, shaking my head in quiet appreciation of the view she grants me when she walks away.
Two days later, it’s Friday, the entire city is drenched with endless rain, and I know the ACU is exhausted. I’m trying to double my work capabilities from a distance to assist rookie investigators, because burnout is becoming a danger for the team. Deion has instructed them to go home tomorrow and rest before returning on Sunday. These hours are harsh, but we can’t rest until we’ve made arrests. I perk up from standby mode when Jayne Rose calls me in the early evening.
“You won’t believe what’s happened,” she says, positively giddy. “We nabbed the android shooter—and the owner, more importantly.”
“You caught him?” I ask, stepping forward. From the corner of my vision, I see Katrina peeking out at me from her bedroom, listening in, and I turn to motion her over.
With just a few of my basic internal commands, I project my optic screen to the wall-sized TV so Katrina can see and hear. Jayne sits behind a desk, wearing a pair of black-framed glasses, her rosy hair resting around her shoulders. Another switch, and she can see the both of us standing there as well.
“Oh!” She waves awkwardly, adjusting her glasses on her nose. “Ezra, putting me on the spot.”
“This is Jayne. She’s one of our lead investigators,” I tell Katrina with a slight gesture to the screen.
“Hi,” Katrina similarly offers, waving sheepishly. Her hair, damp from the long bath she’s just taken after a long day of designing, is covered by a pink bonnet, and she’s wearing a silken peach robe tied tight around her waist. “Sorry, didn’t know I’d be on camera.”
“Same,” Jayne scoffs. “Ezra, you ought to be ashamed, putting us ladies on display without asking first, you silly cabbage.” She grins. “He’s a cheeky bastard, isn’t he?”
“Cheeky.” Katrina chuckles, looking at me. “I like that word. It suits you.”
“I’m not cheeky or a bastard.” Muttering, I fold my arms. Jayne’s accent and colorful vernacular charms almost everyone. “You said you got them?”
“Oh!” Jayne nods excitedly, typing away at her keyboard until a holo-screen projects behind her. She waves her hands through the air, moving around different information modules so we can see. “Right. Washington and I located the bionic shooter because the neighbors across the street had security cameras set up on their porch, and we got his face captured as he fled the scene. See?” She replays the footage for us then pausesit, zooming in on the face and dialing up the image to high definition.
“A BN2075,” I say, stroking my chin.
Katrina tenses. “That looks just like the droid from the shooting,” she murmurs.
“Needle in a haystack, right?” Jayne says.
“What does that mean, BN2075?” Katrina asks. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with the different model numbers. What’s special about them?”
“As far as bionics go, not much.” I glance at her. “Think of BN2075s as a fleet of rental cars. They’re stock. Non-customizable domestic units. A few minor differences, like skin, facial structure, and hair, depending on what year they were sold and if you preordered. But you get what you get?—”
“And you don’t throw a fit?” Katrina interjects with a smile.
I offer a brief smile in return, before remembering that Jayne is watching us. “That’s something Rashelle likes to say to the children. Yes. Anyway, they’re by far one of the most produced models by BioNex, and their affordability means there’re a lot of them.”
“Over ten thousand in New Carnegie alone,” Jayne says. “It was not fun combing through BioNex’s registration index, let me tell you. I had to spearhead a fuckin’ miniature task force. You know how stressful that is, lording over ten other nerds doing the exact same mundane thing over and over again?” She sighs. “I amnotfor spreadsheets.”
“Sounds like fun,” Katrina offers dryly.
“It was shit.” Jayne sniffs. “Anyway, based on the droid’s appearance, we narrowed it down to fivehundredmodels in that particular style, then we cross-referenced owner data with social media to see if we noticed anything odd. Then we found him.”
She presents a mugshot of a balding middle-aged man. “His name’s Andrew Clayton. No criminal record. He’s a pharmacist,works not even five minutes away from the Carson residence in that little mom-and-pop place on South and Bezos. He bought his android three years back.”
“Any link to TerraPura?”
“Absolutely. He’s been dabbling with them for a couple years now. Lower echelon. Apparently, his investment portfolio crashed when DigiPenny went under. Just one poor decision after another from there.”
“Why go after the Carsons?”
“Oh, he’s not telling us. He lawyered up and everything.” Jayne leans back in her chair. “But we subpoenaed his bank records, and he received three fairly large deposits in the past three weeks. Nine thousand nine-hundred ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. Every time.”
